“No,” Tate refused.
Logan could see how this was going to play out. He just wondered who would win.
“Okay, if you won’t forgive me, then at least let me taste you.”
Logan released both hands from Tate’s body as he dropped down onto his knees and quickly pulled the jeans to Tate’s thighs. As soon as the denim revealed what he wanted, Logan went for it.
Wrapping his arms around Tate’s legs, Logan kneaded his ass cheeks and nuzzled into Tate’s groin, reveling in the scent that hit his nose. Exhaling slowly, Logan looked up to see Tate staring down at him.
“Well? I’m waiting.”
Oh, are you? Logan thought as he circled the base of Tate’s erection and dragged his tongue from the root of the shaft to the tip.
When he got to the head of the thick erection, Logan licked the slit, and Tate’s fingers found his hair and grabbed on as he tongued the sensitive glans.
“Come on, Logan. Suck it. You know you’re dying to,” Tate ordered.
Logan would be damned if that demand didn’t ramp up his urge to take Tate, that much more. But first—first, he was going to drive Tate fucking crazy.
Running his hand down Tate’s ass cheek, he brought it around the front of his thigh and up between to cup his full and heavy balls. As soon as he was cradling them, he squeezed and glanced up to see Tate fixated on him. Feeling a smirk cross his lips, Logan rose up on his knees and bent his head over him.
“Holy shit, Logan,” he heard reverberate through the silent apartment as he brought his lips back up Tate’s steely length.
“Your mouth was fucking made for this.”
Logan could feel his own cock pressing painfully against his zipper.
“Hmm…mouthy lawyer equals one sexy cocksucker.”
He’s going to kill me, Logan thought as he pulled his lips from Tate. He was about to tell him he was going to get it, and hard, if he didn’t stop running his mouth, but before Logan even had the chance, Tate’s hand was on the back of his head, increasing the pressure.
So, instead of talking, Logan locked eyes with the sexed-up ones looking down at him, and he silently parted his lips as Tate pushed his hips forward, and slid back into his mouth.
Logan could hear the soft huffs of air leaving Tate with every flex of his hips, and when Logan closed his palm around the firm sac he was fondling, Tate cursed loud enough that Logan was sure that everyone on Tate’s floor had heard. But this wasn’t where Logan wanted this to end. Oh no. He had so much more in mind for Tate.
Rising to his feet, Logan took Tate’s lips in a hard kiss, before lifting his lips.
“Not yet, Tate. Your mouth is very dirty tonight. I think you need to cool down and wash it out. Time for a shower.”
Tate pulled back from him. “I’m not fucking you in the shower.”
Logan reached down between them and took Tate’s erection in his palm. “Good. Because in case you’ve forgotten, that’s not on the agenda today.”
Tate lowered his hands and stilled Logan’s. “You’re not fucking me either.”
Logan stared at Tate as he removed his hand and stroked the back of his fingers along his cheek. “Even if that was an option, I’m of the opinion that I want you to have a clear head. So, let’s get rid of this buzz you have going because, Tate?”
Tate’s dilated eyes blinked at him as Logan assured him, “You will sober up, you will forgive me, and then I’m going to take what you promised me.”
* * *
Tate concentrated on Logan as he thought back on the morning. “You hurt me today. I knew she would, but I didn’t expect you to.”
Tate knew it was the alcohol that had him relaxed enough to say things he never normally would, but when Logan was being gentle, when he was touching him like he cared, it was so easy to slip into the stronger emotions.
“I know,” Logan admitted. “I know I did.”
Tate let out a shaky breath, and for the first time in four excruciatingly long hours, he relaxed under Logan’s admission. “Okay, as long as you know.”
That was when Logan stepped back, removed his glasses, and tossed them on the table. Tate tugged his open jeans back up his body, and as Logan ran a hand through his own hair, he let out a breath and muttered, “I know, believe me. Watching you leave, with no plan to return, isn’t something I want to witness again any time soon. Now, let’s shower.”
* * *
Logan followed Tate down the hall toward the bathroom and for once, he really wanted this to be special. For the first time in his entire adult life, he cared about what happened to the man in front of him.
Just as Tate turned to his left and was about to disappear through the door, Logan reached out and took his arm. Pulling him back, so he was in the dimly lit hall, Logan stepped in to him until Tate’s back was against the wall, and he was against his chest.
Cupping Tate’s face, Logan pressed his lips to the parted ones in front of him. He was relentless in his quest to hear the answer he craved. “Do you forgive me?”
Tate reached down between them and began unbuckling Logan’s belt as he denied him once again, “No.”
Logan rested his forehead against Tate’s, as fast fingers unfastened his button and zipper.
“Tell me why I should. Give me a reason,” Tate suggested.
“Because,” was all Logan could come up with as Tate’s hand pushed down into his pants, taking him in his palm.
“Because?” Tate repeated back to him.
“Yeah, because.”
“But you told me that because is never a good reason,” Tate reminded him as he let go of Logan’s aching skin. He slipped away, making his way into the bathroom.
Frustrated with himself for this entire situation, Logan squeezed his eyes shut and counted to thirty. He was close to finally being in control of himself when he heard the water turn on in the next room.
Oh hell. He had no chance of winning this game, and he knew it. He would do anything to hear Tate say he was forgiven, even if that meant sitting outside the bathroom while he showered, but hopefully that wouldn’t be the case.
Making his way into the tiled room, the first thing Logan saw over in the corner was the pair of jeans Tate had been wearing. He then focused on the man who was standing under the spray of water, and he felt his cock weep as he watched him run a soapy sponge all over his tanned body. When Tate then turned toward him, he dropped the sponge and lifted his hands to smooth them back through his hair, and Logan was rendered useless.
How did I ever think that I’d be the one to win this battle of wills? The man is gorgeous and stubborn, and he has the ability to bring me to my knees.
Kicking off his shoes and pushing his pants and boxers down, Logan was happy to see that even though Tate was still mad, his body was responding to him, regardless. Tate’s erection, both veiny and thick, pointed right at Logan before Tate reached down with a wet hand and stroked it while his eyes stayed on him.
Logan made his way to the glass shower door, pulled it open, and stepped inside, facing the soaked man in front of him. As the water sluiced down over Tate’s body, making his hair stick to his head, Logan couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his own hand around the blushing thick erection Tate was fisting.
Stepping forward, Logan met Tate halfway, and the second their mouths collided, every thought Logan may of had about slow and sweet went straight out the door. God, this is pure heaven. Tate’s mouth was hot and wet as it moved under his, and the noise that rolled out of him was like music to Logan’s ears.
Raising a hand to Tate’s shoulder, Logan pulled his mouth away as he ran his palm down along the smooth, wet skin and ordered, “Turn around, and face the wall.”
Tate blinked at him, and the water that was caught on his eyelashes sparkled under the bathroom lights as he sucked his bottom lip and slowly moved forward. Then, without question, he turned around.
Before Tate was even in place, Logan encroached on that perfectly bronzed
back and wedged himself between Tate’s rounded ass cheeks. Loving the feeling of finally having his cock where he’d been dying to put it, he sank his teeth into Tate’s shoulder, sucking up the beads of water as he felt the spray hit his side.
Tate bucked into him, and Logan asked again, “Do you forgive me?” as he bent his knees and slid his erection up through the most toned ass cheeks he’d ever seen.
Tate’s palms flattened against the tile wall as he used it to drive back on him, telling Logan once again, “No.”
Cursing out his frustration, Logan licked his way up Tate’s neck to his ear and threatened, “Don’t you fucking move, you hear me?”
“Or else?” Tate dared to ask.
“Or else, when you want to move, I won’t let you.”
Tate turned his head and looked back at him, “Is this how you ask for forgiveness by being a bossy, mean—ohhh…”
Tate’s words stopped on a groan as Logan dipped his knees again, sliding his rod against him.
“No. This is me showing you with my body that you’re the most spectacular thing I have ever had against me. I’ll beg for forgiveness later. For now, don’t move.” He instructed.
Speechless, Tate nodded as Logan lowered down onto his knees and looked at the perfect ass in front of him. He reached out and cupped Tate’s cheeks, pushing them up and together, kneading the firm, wet flesh under his palms as the water hit his side and swirled down around his knees.
Tate pushed back into him, and when Logan ran his thumbs down his shadowed cleft, he looked back over his shoulder and Logan gave him his most devious smile.
“You’re not surprised, are you?”
As Logan kneeled up, sipping the water from one of Tate’s rounded cheeks, he dropped a hand down to squeeze his solid erection, and Logan bared his teeth, biting the same spot before he murmured, “I’ll take that as a no. In fact, I think you’re dying for this.”
With strong thumbs, Logan spread Tate’s flesh apart.
“Aren’t you, Tate? You want it, and you know I’ll give it to you. Let me guess. You want my mouth here”—Logan nibbled along the dark crevice of fresh wet skin—“and you want my tongue here,” he told him, and swiped his tongue across the top of his crack. “Or maybe…maybe, you want it all, just a little bit lower.”
As he teased the tip of his tongue farther between Tate’s cheeks, Tate automatically widened his legs, a gruff sound pulling from his throat. Logan chuckled against him before he sat back on his heels, releasing Tate, as he looked at the picture spread out before him, almost forgetting they were in the shower.
“God, from the minute we met, you’ve been nothing but pure fucking temptation for me.”
Tate glared back at him over his shoulder, and his eyes were as dark as Logan had ever seen them. Oh yeah. Tate was on edge, and he was frustrated that Logan had stopped.
As he knelt back up behind Tate, Logan appealed to him once more. “Do you forgive me?”
The question now became something of a quest.
This time, instead of an immediate denial, Tate’s eyebrow rose, and his lips twitched. “No.”
Logan smoothed a palm over Tate’s ass, and promised, “You will.”
* * *
Tate knew what was coming. Logan had very briefly—
Holy shit.
Okay, so Logan had never quite done this to him before. He could feel Logan’s fingers holding him apart, and unbelievably, the scratch of Logan’s stubble against his ass was incredibly stimulating. Tate reveled in all of those feelings until the warm, wet tip of Logan’s tongue grazed his rim.
Tate shut his eyes and ordered himself to relax and enjoy the—ah, fucking hell—experience. But every sure flick of that tongue made his cock painfully aware that it wanted to come.
Arching his back, Tate shoved away from the cool tiles and onto the hot mouth that was savoring him from behind as he heard and felt a groan vibrate out of Logan. This was probably the most depraved thing he’d ever done in his life, and as Logan’s tongue returned time and time again to his sensitive hole, Tate realized he loved every second of it.
Moving his legs even farther apart, he grunted when a fingertip poked against him, and as the tip slipped inside, Tate started to pump his shaft. Letting his imagination fly, he pictured the way they would look right now if anyone were to walk in on them.
Him standing, facing his shower wall, legs parted, and Logan—raw and uninhibited Logan—down on his knees, holding my ass wide apart while his wicked tongue dips inside of me.
Christ, the mental snapshot Tate had given to himself was unbelievably erotic. The intense stimulation Logan was providing was turning him on so much that when the fingertip turned into a full thick digit, Tate shouted and jammed his hips back onto it.
He could feel Logan’s tongue swirling around the spot where the finger was wedged, and as it dragged out of his body, it hit his prostate, and Tate saw fucking stars. His hips snapped forward as he started to masturbate as if this were the last time he would ever hope to come in his life.
Tate could feel Logan’s mouth against his ass cheek, and his finger working back inside him as he started to glide it in and out, hitting all the right spots. It didn’t take longer than probably three more thrusts of that finger, and Tate was shouting out Logan’s name, as he came with such force that he thought he might rip his cock clear from his body.
With his erratic breathing subsiding, he become aware of the lips on his ass cheek, and the tongue that was drawing circles against his flesh. Releasing his hold of his overly sensitive skin, Tate looked down to Logan, who gave him a wicked grin and bit his ass gently.
“Dirty, dirty, Tate. Good thing we’re in a shower.”
Tate turned as Logan got to his feet, and he leaned back against the shower wall, noticing that Logan’s own erection had subsided. Logan winked at him and then stepped under the spray, turning back to face him where he remained against the tiles.
“Come and get clean, would you?” Logan suggested and frowned as if just remembering. “Am I forgiven?”
Tate stared over at the man looking back at him, and he realized that even though this had turned into some kind of game, he still wanted something…more. So, with the effects of the alcohol having somewhat dissipated, Tate stepped forward with his eyes locked on Logan, and he replied, “No.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“So, tell me something,” Logan said an hour later as they lay in Tate’s bed.
They’d ordered and eaten a pepperoni pizza between them, and then Tate had called in to work after some not too subtle urging.
“Something,” Tate replied into the shadows of the room.
“Comedian.”
“Hmm, not really.”
When they’d made their way in here, Tate had closed the blinds, but as they lay naked in the center of the bed, the rays had somehow slipped through and made it seem as though Tate’s skin was burnished by the sun.
Logan rolled over onto his side and looked down at Tate’s face. His left arm was up behind his pillow, and as Logan stared into his eyes, he knew that this was the moment they’d been building up to. This was what he’d been looking for—the one thing that would make him stop trying—and he was here, lying beside him.
“Are you still mad at me?” Logan questioned as he reached out and traced a finger down Tate’s ribs.
Tate turned his head on the pillow and stared up at him. “No…”
Logan narrowed his eyes at him. “But?”
“But…you still aren’t forgiven.”
Flopping onto his back, Logan started to laugh.
“What?” Tate queried, turning over to lean up on his elbow.
Logan stared at the serious face that he knew he wanted to see every day. “You really are pig-headed. You never let me get away with anything. That’s why you’re perfect for me.”
As Tate’s lips twisted into an ironic smile, Logan frowned. “What? Come on, don’t tell me, that’s it?”
Tate said nothing. He just grinned and lay down onto his back. Quick as a flash, Logan moved over him, placing a palm on either side of Tate’s head.
“That’s it? That’s what you’ve been waiting for?” Lowering his head, Logan pressed his mouth against the corner of Tate’s. “What? I haven’t told you how much I need you in my life? How much I want you here in it, everyday?” Logan raised his hand to touch the hair by Tate’s face. “How can you not already know?”
Tate raised an eyebrow at him, and Logan couldn’t help but run his finger over it as he mumbled, “So damn stubborn.”
“It’s your own fault. You never told me. What am I, a mind reader?”
“I don’t know, but I’m a fool,” Logan stated.
“Why?”
“This morning, you accused me of risking nothing, and you’re right.”
Tate went silent as though knowing if he spoke, Logan would never get out what he wanted to say.
“You’ve changed me, and you don’t even realize it. Just being with you, near you? It makes me want to be a better person. You make me want to take a risk.”
Tate touched one of his fingertips to his lower lip.
“What do you want to risk?”
Logan let go of all the emotions he’d held so carefully at arm’s length. Finally, with those feelings surrounding and engulfing him, he answered simply, “Everything.”
* * *
Tate couldn’t believe all that he was feeling as he stared at Logan hovering over him. In the last couple of weeks, Logan had ignited in him things that he’d never thought possible. He’d challenged him to try things Tate had never ever considered, and as he looked up into Logan’s face, he wondered if he was in love with him.
He knew that he was close. He could feel himself sliding, falling over that edge into madness—a madness that, for him, had already ended badly once before.
Am I really ready to risk it all again on someone who has never done this before? My family is going to—
“Hey, what are you thinking about?”